RWBY: Requiem
by RedXEagl3
Summary: A stranger in a strange land is what he'd call himself. Even if his memories of his life before are foggy at best, and even if they are not true and merely a fabrication of a wild dream he had one night, he cannot deny they make him feel different. Like he doesn't truly belong. Like he's an outsider. An interloper. In spite of that, however, he will keep moving forward. (OC)
1. World On Fire

_**Hello people of the RWBY fanfiction archive! My name is RedXEagl3 and I come in peace!**_

 _ **Jesus Christ I can't believe I actually typed that...**_

 _ **Okay seriously this time, hello everyone, and welcome to the newest fic on my fake resume: RWBY: Requiem! It took me a while to get the time, but I finally got the time to binge watch the entire series in around 3 days, and let me just say this...**_

 _ **I love it.**_

 _ **I can't describe it really, I just really, really like this series. So much so, that I decided to insert an OC into it, probably because I'm a masochist and I like to beat myself up for my tendencies to insert people into the story of other series when it's kinda not necessary. In all honesty though, I just had this cool idea and I thought 'why not?'. And now we have this.**_

 _ **Unlike most of my previous stories, I'm actually planning this one out. I don't have everything planned out, which is why this chapter feels kinda open and short, but I'd rather have something out here now. Mostly because I'm more motivated to do something if I feel like disappointing people, which happens more often than not anyway but I try my best.**_

 _ **I think I've prattled on for too long in this beginning AN, and you'll probably want to get a chance to read this story before you click off and read something better, so I'll end this here. Ending AN will have a shit ton more info, though. Read that if you want.**_

 _ **Without further ado-**_

* * *

 **Prologue: World On Fire**

 **Main Theme: For The Glory by All Good Things**

* * *

 _It resembled a battlefield more than the academy that it once was._

 _The spires and grand architecture were merely crumbling shadows of their former selves. The ground was a cracked and horrible mess of rubble and dirt, with small flecks of blood and weapons sprouting from the earth. Swords, spears, guns, every weapon imaginable stabbed into the ground as if their owner gave up the weapon and walked away._

 _This could not be farther from the truth._

 _Behind all of this bloodshed and decay one could still see the grand academy that once stood there, eclipsing the shattered moon. Now, though, the scenery could only be described as…_

 _"…It looks like hell out here." A lone man said. He wore a tattered coat, with the signs of battle still fresh. His chestnut colored hair, too long and matted for it to be intentional, flowed in the wind. Blood was awash on his face, covering one eye, and leaving the lone yellow one to scan the tormented landscape. In his hand, he held a dagger._

 _With that small sentence said, he began to walk. Past all the broken weapons and blood. Past the bodies that littered the landscape the farther he went. It mattered not that many of them seemed to still be alive and weeping; he was not here for them._

 _He was here for the man in the crater._

 _He stumbled, his knees buckling as he slid down the steep edge. Just narrowly avoiding a fall, he stood in front of the crouching form of another man. This man used his greatsword for support, just barely keeping himself from falling to the ground in a heap. His aura almost completely depleted, it was likely to happen anyway._

 _His armor, once a shining example of good craftsmanship, was now a desiccated remnant of what it once was. Blood seeped from his mouth, and it covered several of the more badly injured parts of his body. An old burn scar still covered almost half his face, somehow still more noticeable than the faded stab wound through his stomach that was easily seen through the tears in his armor. He held himself up with a twin-bladed greatsword; his greatest creation._

 _"So, I'd say this was a bad decision on you and your friends' part." The man in the coat deadpanned. "They were expecting you. Only a handful of you survive now. But that isn't important right now. I just have one question for you."_

 _The armored man looked up dully, his left eye a milky, scarred white to match the burn that surrounded it and the other a cobalt blue._

 _"You fought. And fought and fought and fought! And for what? For this?" The man in the coat asked, gesturing wildly to the destroyed hellscape that surrounded them all, his voice gradually getting louder. "This land of broken bones and shattered swords!? You think that that pitiful force you and your friends mustered was enough to stop her!? But no, those were not the questions I wanted answered. I just wanted to ask one. I remember it now. Forgive me for going on a tangent. Hopefully you won't burn out before you get a chance to answer it."_

 _He walked closer to the armored man, and leaned forward, drilling holes into his face with his piercing one-eyed gaze._

 _"Do you really think the life you had before you came here was worse than this? Do you really,_ truly _, believe that?" He asked softly, as if the answer could decide the fate of all of Remnant._

 _The armored man nearly stumbled and fell to the ground then, clearly not expecting the question. However, he quickly recovered, and attempted to stand up. After a few seconds of struggling, he was finally able to. The two men stared each other down from their respective sides of the crater. The man in the coat raised a brow in interest._

 _Wiping the blood from his lip, and after taking a deep breath, the armored man smiled and gave his answer._

* * *

The bluish glow of the laptop screen burned into his eyes, searing his cornea and causing tears to fall from the irritation.

 _That may be melodramatic_ , he thought. _Just… Just so fuckin' tiiiiireeeed!_

That was the truth. He'd been sitting at his desk for hours, quickly trying to type up that research paper to give to his English professor in the morning. He really did enjoy that class. It was just that he had to put himself through many sleepless schedules to get a good grade in it. Stupid jobs and the need for money, whoever thought that that was a good idea should burn!

Thing is, the first person to come up with the concept of jobs and money was long dead, so really, cursing them was pointless.

Of course, that wasn't going to stop him from trying anyway.

Nor was it going to stop him from staring holes into his eyes watching the printer progress meter fill up.

It occurred to him that it might be more entertaining to watch grass grow as he stretched back in his seat. Hearing the satisfying pops and cracks from his back, he moaned and went limp in his rolly chair before standing up and stretching again.

Stumbling through his messy college dorm, he failed to notice the sun rising from the nearby window.

Instead, he ran into the door that was clearly closed.

" _Fuck!_ " He cursed, stumbling backwards a few steps. "You think you're fuckin' tough, don't ya!?"

The door creaked.

He laughed in response. "I'll have you know I'm trained in _several variants of random wild punching_ , and I am not afraid to use them all on you!"

The door didn't reply.

"Got nothing to say, huh?"

Silence.

"Yeah, that's what I thought!" He nodded triumphantly. "Know your place, _bitch!_ "

He opened the door normally, completely devoid of the insanity he displayed a few moments prior. On the other side was a simple living room-esque area, with nothing but a few shelves, a coffee table, a couch, and a T.V.

A T.V. that was currently turned on and blasting ungodly noise out of its stupid speakers.

That was his interpretation of the news, at least.

He walked closer and noticed someone was passed out on the couch. A very special someone.

His younger brother. His younger brother who skipped a year and wound up in the same dorm as him. What a joyful day that was when he figured that out. It was a really, just awesomely _grand_ day. It was so much fun that he didn't even remember most of it.

He blamed it on a sleep deprivation and moved on, looking for the remote.

"-in other news, tensions with Russia are continuously increasing to their breaking point. It is advised that people look for ways to properly ensure the future of themselves and their families in the event that hostilities-"

"Oh my God, Jackson. Do you have to listen to this depressing shit every day? I feel like killing myself just _hearing it_ right now…" He grumbled as he moved around the living room, turning over stray cushions and other knick-knacks that his brother Jackson had helpfully left around the floor for no other reason than laziness.

"-the President has assured citizens that there is absolutely no risk of a Nuclear war occurring, but this statement has already been torn apart by theorists-"

"I am going to tear _you_ apart if I don't find this remote, lady!"

"-as a last precautionary measure, the government has repurposed M.A.D-"

"Oh, I am _plenty mad_ myself right about now- _Ahah_! There it is!"

The T.V. turned off, taking the horrible ear-piercing sound of the reporter's voice with it. He breathed a sigh of relief and threw the remote on the couch, just next to his unconscious brother. He sat next to him, careful to keep his eyes open so that he didn't end up being late for his classes again. He didn't like remembering what happened last time he did that.

"Listen Jack, you have to stop with all these… _escapades_ you keep going on!" He lectured his brother loudly.

His brother didn't move. Only a snore was his answer.

"I mean it!" He replied, annoyance clear in his tone. "I know we're in college and shit and you can act stupid all you want, but this'll just remove years off your life or something like that. You don't want that, right?"

Another snore, this one slightly louder.

"I'm supposed to worry. I'm the older brother, remember, dipshit? Since mom and dad aren't here to curb your self-destructive tendencies, I guess _I_ will."

Yet another snore, and something that sounded like a cough.

"Do as I say, not as I do. Don't want you ending up like me and staying up over night and shit, right? I mean, look at me! Talking to you as if you can hear me." He held his head in his hands. "I mean, seriously, look at me. This is what I wanted out of life, right? This is the big dream. The place I prepared to go through, so I wouldn't have to worry constantly about my future. Well, now you and I are here, and the future is all I worry about. What a fucking life we lead, huh, bro? What's even the point, right?"

 _Working a minimum wage job, trying my best to get good grades in a place I hate, having to make sure my brother is doing the same… Yeah, this is what you've always wanted to be, isn't it? This sad, hollow excuse of a human being? Good job, bucko, you became what you said you never would._

After that brief moment of weakness, he picked himself up and looked at the clock nearby with half-lidded eyes… Only for them to bulge out of their sockets as he saw what it said.

"Oh, you _have_ to be fucking with me right now!" He cried, seeing the clock read 9:00 AM. Only 30 minutes until his class was supposed to start.

"Look, good chat bro, but I have to get the hell out of here. See ya later!" He quickly said, gathering as much of what he would need for the day, and slamming the door behind him.

It didn't even occur to him that he'd forgotten to bring his report until it was too late.

* * *

"Wait, a thought occurs." He said, about halfway to the building that held one of the classes he had to go to that morning. "I… I… Oh."

He finally realized it.

"Oh, you have got to be… No, no, no _no, no, no, no!_ This isn't fucking fair! Goddamnit! Shit!" He shouted to the sky in a righteous fury.

His essay was sitting on the printer in his room. All alone. Naught but the cooled air of the dorm to touch it.

He was _this_ close to snapping. If one more thing were to go wrong, he might've just grabbed the nearest firearm and just go crazy with it.

Even he had to admit that his anger and frustration got the better of him there. He decided to calm down before he went and did something really stupid.

In the end, he did that by standing stock still in the middle of the courtyard he was in. The cold winds of November brushed across his face, and he listened to the sounds of rustling, fallen leaves as they followed the wind on its endless journey. It was good to just clear his mind like this, if even for only a few moments. He still wasn't late yet, thankfully, which gave him time to do this.

And then the siren went off.

It sounded out slowly at first; he heard it almost as if a mosquito was next to his ear. However, it quickly became louder, loud enough to almost block out his thoughts. He didn't realize what it was at first, still in the haze of past frustration and sudden calmness after it, his mind was too discombobulated to properly understand what was happening.

It didn't take long though, before his eyes widened like dinner plates, and all the color drained from his face.

 _-the President has assured citizens that there is absolutely no risk of a Nuclear war occurring, but this statement has already been torn apart by theorists-_

His mind raced at a million miles per hour, but his feet were seemingly rooted to the concrete beneath him. Even as screams echoed across the courtyard, he stayed almost completely still.

 _-as a last precautionary measure, the government has repurposed M.A.D-_

nonononononononononononNONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO-

There was a bright, bright light.

 _He was blind-_

* * *

It could have been a second or a million years by the time he regained consciousness. That is, if you describe consciousness as 'barely coherent thought wrapped in rage and hate'. It didn't happen slowly, either, it was all at once. In the end, that only made the transition from nothingness back to existence more traumatic.

Well, that and the fact that his arms and legs refused to obey him.

Or the fact that, when he opened his eyes, he was somehow inside of a giant basket with a small blanket keeping him from the irritating, thatched surface of it.

Or the fact that said basket was swaying and moving quite a lot, making sure he was never comfortable.

Or the fact that his entire body felt _small_.

If you take all of these factors into account, it really is no wonder what the next action he took was.

 _He screamed_.

He thrashed, he forced his limbs to move, and even then, they were about as useful as small sausages wrapped in human(?) skin. Tears streamed from his eyes as he breathed in and expelled the air in his lungs to cry out in fury and emotion. The basket shook harder, and whispered mumblings that sounded somewhat annoyed roared in his ears. He couldn't hear it. It was like trying to hear someone whispering underwater.

He screamed and screamed until his infantile vocal chords were shredded. His eyesight, obscured a bit by the tears, he looked up at the sky for the first time.

It was at this point that he had the first coherent thought in this brave new world.

 _They nuked the Moon too!?_

The moon that he knew, or thought he knew, he wasn't even sure he knew himself, never had a gigantic chunk ripped out of it, nor did the rubble suspend around said gaping hole the way it did when he saw it.

It was pure insanity, and he was somewhere beyond insanity at that point.

It wasn't long after that that he was unceremoniously dropped, and the sound of retreating footsteps was all that drowned out his incessant screaming.

 _I'm being left here to die_.

That was the second coherent thought he'd had, and it was the last one for days afterward. So caught up in his rage and panic fueled frenzy, he didn't feel the hard, metallic object in the basket with him

After a while, his screaming became more of a gurgle. A gurgle that only the keenest of ears would be able to hear on a good day.

And thus, the infant was left to die, deep in the Forest of Forever Fall. It would not take long for him to either succumb to the elements or to his own needs.

* * *

Luckily for the soul trapped in the infants body, or unluckily depending on how you look at it, he was not alone in that red forest. A pair of yellow, feline-like eyes stared out at him, studying the basket he was in, looking for anything around him, Gods forbid, _he_ himself, was dangerous. Caution and patience were virtues, after all, and if there was one thing they nailed into you in Beacon, it was to restrain yourself, and wait for the proper moment to strike.

Unfortunately, that was not a train of thought this lion faunus was particularly fond of. His wife was, but he was not. So, it was unsurprising when he quickly grew bored of watching and marched straight up to the tree the basket was propped up against.

He was massive, even for a faunus. At 6'8, and nothing but pure muscle, he was an intimidating figure. However, all it would take would be one look at his round, brown-maned, jovial face and friendly yellow eyes to be immediately at ease.

And then one more look at the massive Warhammer slung across his back, a Warhammer that could turn into an artillery piece at a moments notice, and you would be panicking again.

His name was Leon Nemea, and he was… perplexed.

He approached the basket that held the crying, gurgling infant, his footsteps actually causing the basket to shake as he got closer. Once he was right next to it, he knelt, and looked directly into the basket.

Yep, that was an infant alright.

"…And they just left you here." Leon observed, his voice booming even when low. Truly, nothing about this faunus was conspicuous. He was the epitome of stealth.

Leon narrowed his eyes as the baby stopped its incessant gurgling and strangled cries to look up at him, cobalt blue eyes meeting bright yellow.

Silence reigned for several seconds, with not even the background noise of a normal night being present.

And then, Leon threw his head back, and _laughed_. An enormous guffaw went past his lips, filling the night with noise.

If it was possible, the infant looked bemused.

"Ah, I see, I see!" Leon said loudly. "You must be lost, little one? Perhaps your mother and father left you here, eh? I wonder why that is! But nonetheless, you may come with me. I'm sure my wife will just _looove_ to have some company!"

Leon picked up the basket, the infant jostling slightly but not making a sound, despite his earlier screams and cries. It seemed like the infant's cobalt orbs were transfixed on Leon's lion ears, perched neatly atop his brown-haired head.

"Ah, you like them?" Leon said, rubbing the ears in question. "Don't worry, little one! I won't bite! Unless I'm _really friendly_ with you, that is!"

Leon laughed at his own joke, not realizing the implications one could draw from it being said to an infant.

"Heh, but enough joking, you're probably cold, are you not? And hungry too, if what I think is true! Ah, between me and you, I was hoping I'd be able to stay out here for just a bit longer! Not always you get peaceful nights such as these with no Grimm about stalking through the trees, but it cannot be helped! Now, let us go! Onwaaaaaards!"

With that great bellow that could probably be heard for miles, Leon charged through the woods towards his humble abode in Vale, with the confused and still somewhat angry soul inside the infant going with him.

And thus, the fate of Remnant was forever changed. An infant that was never supposed to live ended up living, and a family that was never supposed to have a son finding one. Even events such as these, little specks on the timeline of events that are not usually even worth mentioning, can have a profound, deadly impact on the universe they take place in.

Whether it will all end well, or otherwise, remains to be seen.

* * *

 _ **So, did you hate that? Or did you think it was decent? Either way, I will feel crushing disappointment in myself that I could not make it better.**_

 _ **Now, for clarification, this is NOT a self-insert. Not even close. I do, however, like the premise of being from another world, even if our poor MC here won't exactly accept that, and not in the way you're thinking he won't accept it either. Usually I go for pure teleportation from one world to another, but this time I decided to go the reincarnation route. Mostly because it's something I haven't done yet. Hopefully I'll make it entertaining and compelling enough to justify slamming reincarnation/universe-jumping/bullshit into this fic.**_

 _ **Now, I've figured out, to the surprise of no one, that shipping is a big part of this fandom, even if the show itself doesn't have a lot of shipping in it. You may be asking yourself 'who is this author going to pair his super-mega-awesome do-not-steal OC with?'. The answer to that is quite simple.**_

 _ **I don't know, and I don't care.**_

 _ **For all I know I may go celibate on this OC just to stand out. If I do end up pairing him with someone, however, I will not go full NTR on that main cast. Make of that what you will.**_

 _ **Oh, and GOD NO, I am not doing harems. Fuck harems. Fuck them in the ass.**_

 _ **One more thing, yes, the MC will interact with the main cast. What effect he has on them, and vice versa, remains to be seen.**_

 _ **Discord Server, mostly Fate and High School DxD but there's more than that as well:**_ ** _discord. gg/uDxVym8_**

 _ **Now, with that prohibitively long AN out of the way, I hope you have a good day/evening!**_


	2. Begin Again

_**Welcome back to the people who were gracious enough to leave a follow and new viewers alike!**_

 _ **I don't have a lot of things to say in the beginning AN, so I'll wait to infodump you in the ending AN.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

 **2 years later.**

* * *

Being reborn is, to put it lightly, a difficult and confusing experience. Then again, Cobalt wasn't sure if he was reborn in the first place.

That was his name now. Cobalt. Cobalt Nemea. He liked the name. He liked his parents for _giving_ him a name.

Or were they always his parents, and he just didn't know it? Or was his name always Cobalt, and the memories of a name that he could barely remember were only insane, broken thoughts brought on by distress?

Then again, he was pretty certain that a child his age, only about 2, wasn't supposed to be able to have an existential crisis.

His existential crisis did not detract from the fact that he was having an amazing time playing with the building blocks in front of him. Cobalt was inside of a closed, childproof pen. His mother, worrying, but doting as she was, placed him there while she and his dad were both out meeting an associate. Cobalt didn't mind. He liked the solitude. Not to say that he didn't like his parents, no, he _loved them_. They were the most important people in his life. When he was with them, he was able to forget the thoughts that kept his genius-level toddler brain awake at night.

If that were to happen, at least, he could cry and they would come running to the crib and sooth him.

Cobalt likes the affection they show him the most.

But right at that moment, he was building a toy sword, in the exact same way the man on the T.V. across the room was.

He would need it to take down Narshlog, the Doom Eater, who was currently sitting on a throne made of building blocks, ready to take over the world of child-penland. Cobalt would not let that happen, though. He'd die before he let Narshlog do that. He readied the building block sword he made, looking at the man on the T.V. doing battle with another man with two dagger-pistols, watching as he swung and stabbed the sword he carried with such ease.

He missed this. He hadn't been able to act like this since…

Since when? He'd always been here, he reminded himself.

Maybe if he kept telling himself that, it'd become true.

He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of clanging blades from the T.V., imagining it was him doing battle with an adversary. Wielding a sword, ready to pierce through the evil that threatened to corrupt the world itself with its… well, its _evil_. He opened his eyes, glaring at the toy Beowol- Narshlog the Doom Eater, and charged. He ran as fast as his unsteady, toddler legs were able to carry him, sword of building blocks held high, ready to strike down the evil before him and save the world of child-penland.

He would be a hero.

A part of him, deep down, doubted that.

"-I know, I know, I'm just saying, this one pays really well! Won't have to go on another mission for weeks!" A loud, boisterous voice boomed through the house from the front door.

"Yes, I understand that Leon. However, I think you are forgetting that we have a child now. A child that I refuse to leave without a mother or father again." Came a much softer, though still forceful and strong voice, afterwards.

His parents had come home, just as he was about to free the world of (admittedly, made up) evil. In fact, they came into the room just as he was about to land the killing blow with his slowly falling apart building block sword.

In other words, he was caught red-handed, mimicking fighting moves.

They both just stared at him with their yellow, slitted eyes, reminding him that they weren't exactly 'human'.

Not that he cared. He grew used to it a long time ago.

All was quiet except for the T.V.

That was, before his father let out a guffaw that might've shaken the entire house and disturbed the neighbors. He climbed over the child-proof pen and picked Cobalt up, propping him up on his shoulder.

"Ahah! Thatta boy! Already taking down Beowolves and other baddies like they're nothing, eh? You may just be as good as me one day!" He laughed.

The woman with the lion tail merely shook her head in annoyance. She was much shorter than the man currently manhandling her child, only around 5'6. With short brown hair that barely reached her shoulders, she could easily pass off as human if she closed her eyes and hid her lion tail.

Then again, most faunus were like that.

"You left the T.V. on again, you oaf." She lightly chastised the laughing mountain of a man, as she went to go turn it off. "It's a bad influence on him, I'm telling you. I will not have my son go gallivanting off to an academy just to be killed in initiation."

"Aww, c'mon, Luani! Look, you even made him sad!" Leon pointed to the frowning infant on his shoulder, who was slowly moving his head as if he was going to bury his head in Leon's mane.

"Besides," Leon continued, sitting down on a couch and watching the screen with rapt attention. "It's the Vytal Festival! You don't get to see these every day! Can't we just watch for a little while longer? Please?"

The 'cute' eyes her husband Leon was giving her were nothing. She had grown immune to them a long, long time ago.

It was the eyes of her adoptive son, his cobalt blue eyes for which he was named, burning her soul and warming her heart, that finally got to her. With the father-son pairing double-teaming her like that, her resistance was falling.

Oh no, she was falling for it.

She clenched her teeth, looking away. "I-I will not be-!"

Then her heart clenched when she saw that her baby boy, her son in all but blood, looked like he was about to cry.

Cobalt was going to be an expert manipulator later in life, she could tell.

"A-Alright, fine!" She half-shouted, sitting down next to her husband.

Her husband and son both cheered. She swore, that infant was smarter than he appeared.

"But only for one hour! That's enough for one fight, and the amount of time until 7 o'clock, when he _should_ be going to bed! Leon!? Did you hear me!?"

Leon laughed, calming her down by petting her head. "Of course, of course! Don't worry about it! I am a man of my word, after all!"

"Oh? And how do you know that?" Luani asked, a threatening smile on her pale face.

"I married you, did I not?"

A punch to the shoulder was his answer, as well as a kiss to his cheek.

"Hmm…" Leon hummed, Cobalt still on his shoulder, staring at the screen as a new set of 8 combatants entered an arena. "I see. So that's what they are teaching them in Shade these days… That boy right there needs to swing wider, his sword is meant for sweeping slashes, not thrusts… unless his weapon has a gun barrel near the tip, in which case…"

Leon Nemea had no clue his adoptive son was taking mental notes of his ramblings.

* * *

 **3 years later.**

* * *

He was 5 years old again. Of course, saying 'again' would be the wrong way to put it. It made it seem like he'd been a 5 year-old before, which he wasn't obviously. If he was, that would be weird. And impossible. And weird. Did he mention impossible?

He may have been getting a bit better at denying those memories, but they were still confusing. Still, he couldn't deny that he was smarter than your average 5 year old. He acted different as well, despite how much fun he was having playing around like an average 5 year old. In fact, his mother, the worrywart that she was, sent him to a child psychologist over a year ago because he had not cried at all since he was 3, which was around the time he mentally grew out of simply crying in his crib for attention.

That was a surreal experience, that day.

Fortunately, the current day for him was a lot better.

Of course, most people wouldn't consider going to the market with their father to be a very enchanting or exciting experience, but then again, Cobalt is not most people.

He had to admit that that thought was a bit more egotistical than he intended, but he rolled with it.

"So what do you think, boy?" Leon Nemea grunted, massive hand at his chin in a thinking gesture. "Should we indulge ourselves tonight or should we be prudes and follow your mother's advice of a nice, lean meal?"

Cobalt found the way his dad talked interesting, to say the least.

It wasn't the way most people talked in the farmer's market, to be sure. Or anyone else, for that matter.

"I want dat one!" Cobalt replied, pointing at a fatty cut of meat wrapped in clear wrap. Noticing a piece of bread on a shelf nearby, he quickly pointed to that one as well. "And dat one!" He added.

Leon let loose one of his trademarked guffaws. "Hahahaha! Thatta boy! Us men need these large cuts of meat, eh? Especially me, now that I think about it. Your mother worries too much, but we love her just the same, don't we?"

Cobalt nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Ah, but the bread though… Hm, I suppose it wouldn't be too bad. Carbs are good for when you need energy badly, but not for much else. Just make sure you get plenty of exercise afterwards, 'right?"

"Yessa!"

It was fun pretending to have mild speech problems. Most 5-year olds were difficult to understand, why should he be any different?

Well, he _was_ different, but that was beside the point.

"Alright then! Take these and I'll go pay for them then. Hopefully this clerk is better than the last few… anti-faunus fools almost make me regret leaving the…"

To many, it would seem irresponsible to leave a 5 year old standing in the middle of a crowded market street. And many would be right. Leon, however, could be absent minded at times. Besides, who would want to touch a kid who was seen hanging around a massive lion faunus?

Not many. Not many at all.

However, after awhile, Cobalt didn't see his father come back. This was not unusual sometimes. Sometimes the clerk or shopkeeper or vendor would give his father a hard time for no real tangible reason.

Cobalt knew the real reason, and it disgusted him, but he could do nothing about it. At least, not right now.

Cobalt was interrupted from his musings when he heard sniffling nearby. At first, he ignored it. It wasn't his business to get involved with others, especially when his father was around. Even before he was reborn, he'd often turn a blind eye to others. It wasn't his business, what right did he have to encroach upon others life that?

However, when the sniffling turned into outright _crying_ , either coming from a girl or a young boy, his curiosity got the better of him. Surely, it couldn't hurt to at least look at what was happening, right?

Many things could go wrong, but Cobalt chose to ignore them.

His search took him down the street a way, and into a space in between buildings. Crouched there, just a little way away from where he stood, there was a boy. He looked slightly girly with long, blond hair, and green, bloodshot eyes. Tears streamed down his pale face in droves.

Every instinct, every part of who he was, told him to just move on. To ignore this kid in the alleyway between buildings. To leave this crying boy to his fate.

Another part of him, the subconscious part, told him to ignore these feelings, and help him. He looked to be starving, what was one small piece of bread? If he wanted to be more than what he was before, than this, this was an excellent place to start.

 _Be a hero, even if it's just for this kid. Live an interesting life, not a boring one. Not like before._

He approached the boy. When he was within a few feet, the blond-haired boy looked up wearily, green eyes wide and scared.

Cobalt struggled to get a piece off the bread, what with his other hand holding a piece of wrapped fresh meat, but he managed. He held it to the crying boy.

"Here." He said, in a clear voice without the juvenile speech impediment. "Don't be afraid, have it."

The green-eyed boy looked at him and then the offered piece of bread a few times, unbelieving of what was in front of him. After a few seconds, though, he snatched the bread out of Cobalt's hands and devoured it. He scarfed it down within seconds.

"You're very hungry, huh?" Cobalt observed. "What's your name?"

The green-eyed boy looked around a little bit nervously, as if he was checking to make sure no one else heard him. After coming to the conclusion that the coast was, indeed, clear, he scooted forward and stuttered out his name.

"A-Asher Skye."

* * *

 **2 years later.**

* * *

Cobalt didn't like the way faunus were treated, and by extension, _he_ was treated by being adopted by two of them. If his memory was to be believed – it wasn't, he told himself, but it had some place in this line of thought – he didn't like it before either. To hate someone over something so trivial as a pair of antlers or a tail, to hate them based only on _what_ they are, not _who_ they are.

To him, that was ignorance and stupidity incarnate.

Of course, this, once again, for the millionth time in his seven year-old life, brought up the fact that he had the memories and knowledge of another world.

Cobalt had long since discounted them. Disowned them. They were not his, and if they were, they were simply fragments of a bad dream he surely had a long, long time ago.

A long time ago being maybe about 2 weeks ago, of course, but then again that wouldn't make sense.

He didn't care. They weren't real. Simple as that.

Cobalt refused to touch the fact that he was obviously a lot more world-weary and smarter than almost any kid his age should be, though. Or the fact that he'd had this world-weariness and intelligence for as long as he could remember.

These were not thoughts brought up at random, however, they came about as he was playing with his best friend, Asher Skye.

More specifically, picking up fallen branches and having sword fights with them.

You know, the usual.

"It is time to face your destiny, _Asher_." Cobalt growled, his voice still sounding squeaky through it but they both ignored it.

"If it is my destiny to defeat you, then I shall face it with open arms! _Hiyah!_ " Asher declared, his long, shaggy blond hair waving in the wind.

Cobalt idly wondered if Asher's parents ever took him to see a barber.

Asher charged, stick-sword held high. As soon as he was within striking distance, he swung down. However, Cobalt moved out of the way just in time, watching carefully as the stick-sword Asher wielded struck the ground. Taking this obvious opening, he thrusted with his own stick sword, intent on stabbing Asher through the chest and ending their rivalry, once and for all.

Of course, they were only playing, so Cobalt settled on stabbing him through the opening between his right arm and chest.

Asher's green eyes bulged out of their sockets as he coughed up saliva, trying to emulate coughing up blood as he stumbled back, squishing his arm to the side of his chest to keep the stick that 'stabbed' him in place.

"I-" He faked coughing. "I-I have been defeated!? Curse you, evil overlord! You may have won this battle, but you will not win the war!" He fell on the ground, crunching dozens of fallen leaves.

"Poor Asher. Have you not realized?" Cobalt knelt to Asher's level, staring him straight in the eye. "The war has already been _won_."

" _Nooooooooo!_ "

Asher went limp. Dead.

Not for long, though, as at first a giggle escaped his lips. And then a small laugh. And before they both knew it, they were both laughing like madmen. Asher got back up, brushing the brown and orange fallen leaves off his admittedly somewhat dirty clothes.

Of course, they were always dirty. Cobalt learned not to ask about that after the first time.

"Oh my Gods, that was _so_ cool you were all like 'face your destiny' and then I was like 'no you!' and then you killed me all fast and cool and stuff and it was just _WOW!_ " Asher exclaimed. "I mean, where did you learn to move like that!? I thought I would have gotten you with that for sure! Or that you'd've blocked it and stuff and we'd have one of those cool sword fights like in those movies or Huntsmen thingies!"

Cobalt, who was nearly incapacitated with laughter, answered. "I-I just wanted to end it fast, ya know? My old man always says you shouldn't make a fight longer than it should. Just gotta wait for an opening, ya know? And then you just-" He stabbed the air with a scrunched hand. "-get 'em right where it hurts!"

Asher nodded. "Yeah, yeah. You _always_ brag about how your parents are Huntsmen and stuff." Asher's mood became a bit more sour. "I wish my dad was as cool as yours."

Cobalt frowned. He didn't mean for it to get this way. He loved his father, but maybe acting more like the kid he was right now would do more harm then good. He wisely decided to shut his mouth. They both just stood around awkwardly for a few moments, not knowing what to do. Cobalt was about to say goodbye and go back to his house, but then he realized it might not be good to leave Asher in this state.

Instead, he decided to pick up the stick that had fallen to the ground after Asher had gotten up. "Wanna play again?"

" _Asher!_ " A shrill voice called from a nearby house. " _Get in this house right this instant!_ "

It would not be inaccurate to say that Asher's already pale face turned as white as a sheet of paper when he heard her.

Cobalt dropped the stick as he stared off at the house, with the bony woman standing on its filthy patio. "Guess not, huh?"

Asher chuckled nervously and humorlessly. "Guess not." He agreed. "I'll… uh… I'll see you later, Cobalt."

Even Cobalt's too-developed-for-a-seven-year-old mind could not find a solution, nor could he ignore, what would happen to Asher in that house.

He would help him, someday.

At least, that's what he told himself.

"I'll see ya later than," Cobalt said awkwardly.

Asher looked forlornly at the house. "Yeah, you too."

Asher marched to his house like it was a death camp.

The bony, shrill woman ushered him inside, and took one look at Cobalt. The animosity in her shrunken, aged eyes was not aimed at who he was, but at what he represented.

The adopted child of a faunus.

He stared at their house for a few moments, anger bubbling inside of him. He may have acted young, but he was a lot more intelligent than anyone knew. It made him more sensitive to people like Asher's parents. While they may never had said anything to him directly, he knew what they thought of him just from the glares they threw his way.

It disgusted him. It repulsed him. That somebody could be so ignorant and fearful of someone else to demonize them and not face their own stupidity.

Cobalt walked away, anger boiling away. He would find some way to get Asher out of that house. He would be _damned_ if he did nothing.

* * *

 **3 years later.**

* * *

"…and that's when they decided to do nothing and just sit around until the end. It was a _really_ boring movie, Cobalt." Asher whined across from him at the lunch table.

As time had gone on, Cobalt dropped the 'rambunctious-but-intelligent child' act and began to let more of his snarky, pessimistic nature bleed into his speech and actions.

"I know that, Asher," Cobalt said, sipping from an apple juice box. "Why do you think I decided to recommend that movie to you? You and it have a lot in common."

Case in point.

"That one hurt, man." Asher sighed.

"Only _hurt_? I must be losing my edge."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you and your… _sarcasm_ and crap." Asher swirled the noodles in the bowl in front of him. "You're just lucky that you got me outta that house. Else I'd punch you so hard your mom'd feel it."

"I didn't know you'd hit a woman, Asher. Should I call the police on you too?"

"Shut up, you know what I meant!" Asher groaned.

Yes, Cobalt knew what he meant.

It had taken weeks, but after that late Autumn day, Cobalt really did stop at nothing to get Asher out of that abusive house. A few failed cop calls, and even a small investigation by his dad and a few 'co-workers' later, and Asher Skye was out of that den of racism and hate. He lived with his aunt and uncle, somewhere farther away but still close enough that Asher had personally come to his house and embraced him. Now, he looked better than ever. His skin had more color to it, his hair was neatly trimmed, and his eyes almost glowed with mirth when he spoke with Cobalt.

Overall, Cobalt would say it was worth it. Even if he had to get a lecture from his mom.

The pat on the back he got from his dad was nice too.

He wouldn't have been able to make a difference like this in his past life. He'd never have the courage.

Good thing he used that as motivation to make himself into a better person, even if said past life was almost definitely fake.

"Anyways, so I was thinking, right?" Asher began excitedly.

"A rarity, I'm sure."

"Oh, shut up! You're so mouthy today! Anyway, as I was saying, I was thinking that we should draw designs, you know? Like, you'll have a sword or something I guess, and then I'll have these cool knives or something that can turn into a bow, and I'll have a quiver on my back and crap like that, you know?"

"So while you get awesome daggers that can turn into a bow, I get a dinky old sword? Right, this seems completely fair." Cobalt deadpanned.

"Oh please, you can do whatever you want with a sword. What can I do with daggers? I mean, I could maybe make them into like cool pistols with the blades on the ends, but that just seems…"

"It sounds like every other idea you've had."

Asher looked at Cobalt.

Cobalt looked at Asher.

"I know what you're gonna say-"

"Done before."

"-And there we go." Asher sighed. "So yeah, you can see where I'm going with this, right? I mean, it'd be awesome, right?"

"It seems a bit… gimmicky, but it could work out, yeah." Cobalt relented.

It was important to not be an asshole _all_ the time.

Asher beamed. "Thank you! But yeah, don't worry about the sword thing. You can literally do _anything_ with a sword! It'd be so cool!"

Cobalt had to give Asher credit, he was thinking about it. This entire conversation came up when Asher started fanboying over Huntsmen and Huntresses, and then they got into the hypothetical situation of when they'd make their own weapons. Asher was, obviously, enamored with the idea of daggers combining into something else.

Honestly, if Cobalt had to choose, it'd actually be a sword. He wasn't sure what he'd combine it with, but he wasn't sure if he'd even be a Huntsmen, so it seemed a bit pointless to theorize about something like that.

He knew for sure that his dad would agree, but his mother? That was an entirely different beast.

He would like to be one. To be a hero. To not have to waste his life in a place he hates, doing nothing of significance. He'd already felt that once. With this opportunity, he can finally, finally be something more.

Cobalt's mind was a confusing place. Even _he_ had trouble figuring it out sometimes.

What was even more confusing was when a third boy decided to sit next to Cobalt. A boy that towered over both of them. With slicked back orange hair and indigo colored eyes, and a smug look, Cobalt instantly labeled him under 'deserves a good punch to the face in the near future' in his categorical people book when he first met him.

Cardin Winchester, in the flesh. The biggest kid, and meanest bully, in the elementary school they were in.

"So what's going on over in this neck of the woods, lionboy?" Cardin said, his tone dripping with fake friendliness.

"Well at first we were talking about maybe finally paying your mom a visit, but then we decided that we actually had standards, unlike your father." Cobalt replied instantly.

He cringed inwardly as Asher held a hand up to his mouth to try and suppress a giggle. Cobalt had maybe let his inherent snarky nature get the better of him, especially when around this racist asshole.

A hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed painfully. Cardin was a strong 10 year-old. Cobalt was no push-over, but Cardin was inherently intimidating. Something he didn't have, being average height for his age. Cardin leaned in, his mouth next to his ear.

"You better watch yourself, _animal lover_. My dad has friends in high places. You ever insult my family like that again, I'll make sure your entire family is run out of town. Won't even matter that they're huntsmen, either. You'll never see Vale again." He whispered threateningly, taking food off of Cobalt's tray like it was his own.

"Oh, so you can make fun of _my_ family with impunity, is that it?" Cobalt hissed. "One little joke is enough to get you to lose your head, is that it, Winchester?"

"Animals don't deserve respect, lionboy. And a human raised by animals? No better than an animal himself." Cardin laughed, munching on _Cobalt's_ food.

Cardin had been like this. Exactly like this since he'd entered this school. The minute he'd found out that Cobalt had faunus parents, he'd been made his favorite target. It had been years of this. He could deal with it when he was younger. It wasn't so bad. But as Cardin himself grew older, it had been becoming increasingly more insufferable and intolerable. Cardin had been lying when he said his father had friends in high places. The person with the most authority that Cardin's father knew was a bartender. Even after he found out, Cardin didn't stop. He'd try to lord it over him no matter what.

Was it any wonder that Cobalt had had enough? Despite his intelligence being far above that of what was usual for a 10 year-old, he had also, unwittingly, had the emotions of a child as well. Especially now.

In other words, that insult was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Asher was attempting to speak with him, apparently urging him to just move away from Cardin, but Cobalt wasn't having it. Picking up his tray, he turned it over on Cardin's head, covering him in applesauce, fries, and apple slices.

The shocked look on Cardin's face, as well as the silence that filled the cafeteria they were in, was worth it. Even Asher was completely speechless. At least for the first few seconds.

"Holy crap, Cobalt." Asher murmured. "I've wanted to do that for weeks." Asher held up his hand. "High fi-" He immediately shrunk back down when Cardin stood up.

"That was a mistake, animal boy." He spat.

"You'd know all about mistakes wouldn't you, Winchester-"

A sucker punch was his answer. Cardin may not have had an aura yet, but in the world of high-tier elementary school boxing, he was the best. And considering that Cobalt hadn't activated his aura yet, the result was obvious.

The punch sent him straight to the ground, a bloody lip clear to anyone who saw.

And a lot of people saw. A small circle of kids was gathering in a circle around them.

"Is that all you got, animal? C'mon! After all that trash talk you have to be able to back it up! Or did your lion dad teach you how to play dead? Are you part possum?" Cardin mocked, walking around and kicking Cobalt in the stomach, hard. "C'mon, get up!"

Spitting out saliva from the kick to the gut, Cobalt shakily got to his feet, and threw a punch the best he could.

Which didn't amount to much since his head was still spinning, but he gave it his best shot. In fact, if it had hit, Cardin may have been reeling.

Unfortunately, he missed.

And Cardin punched him down again.

"Seriously? After all that talk and you can't do anything? This is what happens when you're raised by animals, I guess." Cardin looked around. "I mean, look at this! All that talk, all that talk? And he's passed out on the floor."

Cardin took a few steps back, looking around from random people in the crowd surrounding them. "You look like a dog. Maybe that's what they did to you? Turned you into a dog? That would be disgusting you know. Then again, you know all about disgusting. I bet you roll around in your own crap like a pig, too. Whatever. I'm done with you."

He began walking off.

Cobalt was on his hands and knees, shaking.

Not shaking with terror and hurt, though.

Shaking with rage.

He didn't know it at the time, but he'd accidentally activated his aura.

Usually, one would need to train and meditate, or have somebody who is extremely skilled in aura already, to activate their aura. Great discipline and willpower are required as well.

Cobalt may not have had a lot of discipline, but he had _heaps_ of willpower.

He couldn't control his raging blue aura at all, but it was activated, nonetheless.

" _Winchester!_ "

Cardin turned around.

Only to be met by a fist nearly breaking his cheekbone, and sending him hurtling into a table, taken clean out cold.

Cobalt stood there for several seconds, before collapsing. The faint blue aura around him disappearing.

In less than 8 seconds, he had used it all up.

It was enough for him.

* * *

Cobalt knew he was in trouble.

Well, in trouble with the faculty, not his father, who was currently in the principal's office.

At least, he hoped not.

He sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his legs crossed and biting into his lip in preparation for what might befall him. It had been a long, long time since anything even resembling this had happened to him. In fact, he'd go so far as to say it hadn't happened to him at all since his rebirth.

What rebirth? He's always been here. Always been here. To imply otherwise was insanity.

His dad, bushy mane and all came out after a few minutes, an indistinguishable expression on his face. That did not bode well.

"Let's go, Cobalt." He said emotionlessly.

Also not a good sign.

Without another word, Cobalt jumped off the plastic chair, and followed his dad out of the school. Not a word passed between them as they walked out, and it was another 10 minutes on the 20 minute long walk home before either of them said a word.

Cobalt was the first to break the silence.

"Dad… I'm-"

" _Finally_ ," Leon Nemea breathed out. "I was hoping you'd start the conversation first. Didn't know how else to say it." He stopped and knelt to his level. "Okay, you got at least 2 and a half weeks of detention. Not too bad, eh? Had to haggle with that shrew of a principal, but I got it. Not bad for an old lion, huh?"

Cobalt was completely flabbergasted at this response. After that awkward exchange back in the school, he was expecting more… anger?

"Uh… I thought you'd be more… angry." Cobalt stuttered out.

"Angry? Of course not! I know you, boy. You'd never start a fight unless he started it first."

Cobalt bit his lip. _That wasn't entirely true…_

"And I'd definitely not be angry after finding out you unlocked your aura!" Leon laughed.

Cobalt's eyes widened. "My… I unlocked my aura?"

Leon smiled. "How else do you think you knocked that punks block off into a table like that? You're strong for a 10 year-old, but not that strong! At least, not usually." Leon ruffled Cobalt's dark brown hair. "Wish you would have unlocked it in a less violent way, or with more training so you were knocked out like a light afterward, but honestly? I'm proud of you, boy! With this, you could be a Huntsman!"

There was that word again. _Huntsman_. A hero, basically. Someone who fought and led an interesting life, unlike the one he lived before. The word resonated with him. It was at that moment, that Cobalt made up his mind.

"Dad, I wanna be a Huntsman!"

If it was possible, Leon Nemea's smile grew wider than it had in decades.

* * *

" _Absolutely not!_ " Luani Nemea roared, nearly shaking the house and causing Cobalt and Leon Nemea to flinch. "First, you come here after having a fight at school, and then you have the _gall_ to tell me that you want to risk your life fighting Grimm for the rest of your life!? How did you expect this to go, Cobalt!?"

"A little bit better than this, maybe?" Cobalt squeaked.

"Don't worry boy, I got this," Leon whispered into his ear, before approaching the fuming lioness, and taking her behind closed doors. "Luani, baby-!"

"Don't you 'Luani baby' me, Leon Nemea! I'll have your hide!"

"Okay, dear. Look, I know, okay. I get it! He's our only child! But do you really think you'll be able to protect him forever. And with the way the world is now? You and I are Huntsmen as well, Luani. Someday we may never come back. I just want our boy to be able to take care of himself out there. Find a place where he can feel like he belongs, you know? And if he wants to be a Huntsman, I think we should support him and help him on that path, right? Come on, Luani, you know I'm right."

Luani Nemea's expression cracked further and further the longer Leon spoke, before it looked like she was about to burst into tears. She held onto her stomach. "I know. I know you're right Leon. It's just that… you know I couldn't… he's the only one we have! I don't want to… I don't want to lose him!"

Leon embraced Luani. The married couple stood there for several seconds, with Luani gently sobbing, before the parted.

"Listen to me, Leon. You better train him the best you can before you send him to a combat academy, you hear me? If I have to, I'll intervene as well. If my boy wants to be a Huntsman…" She grabbed Leon's hands. "We better make him the best Huntsman that ever walked on the face of Remnant."

Leon smiled. "I'm planning on it!"

* * *

Cobalt Nemea woke up the next morning to the sound of an alarm clock. This as abnormal in the fact that it was the weekend and he didn't have school.

And then he saw his dad, standing there with a practice sword and massive Warhammer in each hand, grinning toothily at him, and Cobalt remembered the declaration he made the day prior.

He couldn't help the smile that came to his face either.

 _Finally-!_

* * *

 ** _Right, it's come to my attention that some people were either confused with what I said last time or they brought up points that I forgot to bring up._**

 ** _First, shipping. When I said I would not NTR the main cast I meant to it like this: I will not pull apart two characters that are directly confirmed, in the show, to have a crush on one another. So basically, Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora are off limits. Everyone else though? Fair game._**

 ** _I might've pissed a few people off with that, but what can I do?_**

 ** _Oh, and I've picked a pairing. What is it? Figure it out yourselves._**

 ** _You'll probably have a few good hints soon, considering we meet with a few of the canon cast next chapter._**

 ** _One last thing. Just because there's a few OCs here now does not mean things will turn out better. They may be powerful, but they are not invincible or infallible. I am here to make things DIFFERENT, not BETTER._**

 ** _Jesus, I'm a cold bastard, aren't I?_**

 ** _Here's our Discord server. I'll probably be there after this is posted expressing my crippling anxiety:_** ** _discord. gg/uDxVym8_**

 ** _Now, with that out of the way, I hope you have a Good Night!_**


	3. I Remember Me

_**And here we are again, the end of this goddamn prologue.**_

 _ **Hopefully I'll have more fun writing future chapters, because this one took a long time to feel like it was just right, and even then I still feel like something is missing. Hopefully it's just me. If not... well, I was never really good at beginnings.**_

 _ **I'll get to it later, though. For now, the chapter!**_

* * *

 **3 years later.**

* * *

Cobalt Nemea watched, and waited. The sound of footsteps in the packed snow did not go unnoticed by him in the slightest. Even in the Forest of Forever Fall, winter still makes its mark. Luckily for him, it wasn't freshly fallen snow, otherwise he might have had trouble hearing the sound of the Beowolves that were stalking him nearby. They were weak Grimm on their own, but then again, they were rarely on their own.

Luani Nemea was perched nearby, watching his every move with her feline, yellow eyes.

Cobalt waited.

This technique was more reminiscent of his mother, who would often either sneak up on her pray or wait for them to strike first, and when she did fight, she went for the vitals, rarely wasting or missing an attack.

His father was the complete opposite in that respect. He would strike around wildly, with great force, and with little accuracy. It would be a waste if he wasn't just so _damn_ strong. Just one strike was usually enough to crush any type of Grimm except for the truly ancient and massive ones.

Cobalt combined both of their styles. He would watch and wait for the Beowolves to strike first. And he would go for their vitals, their weak points. And he would do it _hard_ , considering his mother used some sort of daggers, and he used a greatsword.

Truly, the only reason he was able to use a greatsword like that was because of his aura, anyone else might have fallen over trying to pick it up.

The greatsword itself wasn't even anything special, despite being nigh-unbreakable, like most weapons on Remnant. He'd chosen it out of several his dad presented to him on that day 3 years ago. One day, he would remake it to better suit a Huntsman like he would become.

But for now, he was using it to kill blackened mutts who'd strayed too close to their usual practice area.

It wasn't long before they showed themselves.

At first, it was just two stray glowing red lights in the darkness of the forest. And then another pair. And another.

Soon, there were more than a dozen, all staring with murderous blood red eyes.

One stepped forward. The Beowolf's bone white mask glittered in the moonlight, and its snarls and howls could be heard for miles.

Still, Cobalt waited, greatsword in hand.

They got closer and circled, making sure he had no way to escape, their paws crunching through the packed snow sounding an awful lot like bones cracking.

And then they charged. All at once.

Cobalt waited for the first one to get within a foot of him before he lunged.

A Beowolf jumped, attempting to grab him by the throat with its jaws, before it found a greatsword lodged firmly in its chest. Blood stained the snow.

Holding the Beowolf up for no more than a half-second, Cobalt heaved it over his head and used the now disappearing but still very much physical body of the Beowolf as a club, smashing another one that got too close with the body of its kin. With his sword now free, and the chance for a simple, precise and strong attack no ineffective at best, Cobalt began _slashing_.

The greatsword cut a Beowolf right down the middle, bisecting it. Another slash and a stray Beowolf head went flying and landed in the snow, dissipating a moment later. A moment later, and a Beowolf's leg ended up lodged between a tree trunk and a branch.

It went on like this for nearly a minute, until they were all gone.

Or not. They weren't gone.

Aura was funny like that. You could tell when you were being hunted, or if you were the hunter. Luckily, Cobalt was much more proficient at using his aura than he was 3 years ago, when it first awakened.

Still hadn't unlocked his semblance yet, but hey, baby steps, right?

There was one lone Beowolf right behind him, apparently thinking it was clever letting its comrades get butchered while it hung back and waited for the moment where the human would let his guard down and let it bite deep into his flesh.

The Beowolf pounced.

Cobalt ducked.

A moment later, the Beowolf yelped in pain as Cobalt's greatsword was embedded deep in its chest. Heaving the deadweight, Cobalt through the dying Beowolf off his sword and into a tree, where it dissipated a moment later.

All was quiet in the world again.

With his aura quietly fading away, Cobalt let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. White mist came out of his mouth at every breath, reminding him how cold it was out there.

He was exhausted, but he'd took down and entire pack of Beowolves all by himself, so that was pretty obvious.

"Cobalt, that was _excellent!_ " Luani praised, jumping down from the tree she was perched in and patting his head. "For a Huntsman-in-training, that was exemplary! However," She corrected a few position errors. "Your legs are too close together. You must ignore that voice in your head that says to clam up, no matter what, okay? That is a quick way to an early grave, and neither me nor your father want to see that happen."

Cobalt cracked a smile. "You're so nice, mom. You say such nice things about me!"

Luani's eyes narrowed, but she smiled back.

"Watch it there, buster, or else me and your dad will tag team you in the next training session."

Cobalt instantly paled. He remembered the last time that happened.

He nearly died.

"But enough about that, we should get going. Don't want to miss out on your protein, yes?"

Cobalt shrugged, before taking one step and staggering, almost falling face first into the snow. He looked at his mother.

She looked at him.

"I can't move."

"Again?"

"You think I'm doing this because it's funny?"

"It would not surprise me, but you do have a point. Hup-hup!"

Luani ended up carrying Cobalt home on her back. Cobalt definitely wasn't faking it because he didn't want to walk all the way back home.

He definitely wasn't.

* * *

Cobalt was confused.

Well, bemused might be a better word for what he was feeling at that moment.

Only a few days after he eliminated the pack of Beowolves that foolishly decided to encroach upon their training grounds, his father had started acting strangely. He barely talked to Cobalt for several days, sequestering himself in his room and seemingly talking to somebody over his Scroll.

And, the thing that had Cobalt confused, was that he burst out of his room, nearly tearing the door off its hinges, grabbed him, and full-on sprinted for miles to reach the training grounds. Usually, if his father got into a mood like this, he'd be laughing, joking, and just being the jovial man everyone he had ever known knew him to be.

This time, his father was dead silent the entire way.

When they arrived at the training grounds, nearing noon by that point, Leon promptly put his son down and walked to the other edge of the barren and snowy training grounds.

"Cobalt," He called, his face grim. "You have made stunning progress these past few years."

Cobalt, despite himself, felt pride swell in his chest at the simple praise. He'd never gotten anything like this-

He'd always been here, he reminded himself for the billionth time.

"I'll be honest with you, son. When I took you home that night all those years ago, and you looked at me with that fire in your eyes and told me 'Dad, I wanna be a Hunstman!' it was the single most prideful memory I have of you and me! You have never given up, you have never backed down, and, despite some snark, you focus on what we show you and you improve yourself accordingly." Leon Nemea listed off.

Cobalt's smile could not grow any wider. The only thing that was stopping it was the fact that his father facial expression had not changed.

"However."

Cobalt's smile dropped.

"There is still one, crucial ability we have yet to find out about you, one that no Hunstman or Huntress can go without: Your Semblance."

Cobalt frowned. He had taken to most Huntsmen habits and tactics like a fish to water, a point of pride in both himself and his parents. There was just that one little caveat to it. His Semblance, no matter how hard he 'meditated' nor how hard he trained, just would not reveal itself.

Either that, or it _had_ revealed itself, but the effect was so subtle that they could not pick up on it easily, which would really disappoint him. He'd always wanted one of those cooler ones too, like maybe super strength or speed.

"I've consulted with a few close friends, and they basically told me everything I already knew," Leon continued, rubbing the back of his head in slight embarrassment. "To be honest, I was hoping I wouldn't have to go with this method; your mother would skin me alive, and then probably make a nice, comfy rug for the den. However, if you want to unlock your semblance, which I know you do, this appears to be the only fool proof method."

Cobalt tilted his head. "What is it? Do I have to get really, really angry or something?

Leon pursed his lips. "Not far off."

He hefted the massive Warhammer that Cobalt had somehow missed – most weapons on Remnant could fold in on themselves to become smaller – and leaned it on his shoulder. In his other hand, he held Cobalt's greatsword.

"We are going to spar, Cobalt. But not like we do most of the time. This time, I will not hold back." Leon said grimly. He tossed the greatsword, and Cobalt caught it.

Cobalt was surprised to say the least.

And also, maybe a little terrified.

Despite that, however, he nodded. Even though he was both surprised and terrified, he was excited as well. To be taken seriously like this, even if it's only to unlock his semblance, was a dream come true. If he was honest with himself, he might have become a little bit addicted to fighting.

Not that that was a particularly bad thing, considering what profession he was setting himself up to go into.

"When I count to 3, we will both give it our all, okay?" Leon said, and seeing Cobalt nod again, couldn't stop the small smirk on his face. "Good! _1._ "

Cobalt readied his arm, keeping the tip of his greatsword firmly planted on his father.

" _2_."

Cobalt widened his stance, making sure he wasn't caught off guard by his father's strength.

" _ **3!**_ "

Leon Nemea charged.

And half the world seemingly went with him.

Snow and dirt flew in the opposite direction as the ground shook beneath him, his eyes blazed with a fire that Cobalt had never seen in person before, and his Warhammer was held high, ready to crush him beneath its immense weight.

If Cobalt were hit full force by that, he'd probably die. His father was not joking.

His father's shouts seemed to cause an earthquake as he grew nearer. Cobalt knew what he had to do.

As soon as his father's Warhammer came down, Cobalt moved to the side, and slashed his greatsword across his father's side.

To anyone else, without an aura, it would have been a fatal blow. Unfortunately for Cobalt, all it did was push Leon back a bit. Leon quickly recovered from the blow and swung his Warhammer down on Cobalt agai, though this time with the momentum from a full-on charge. Their weapons clashed, sparks hitting the ground and melting the snow where they landed.

They traded blow for blow for nearly a full minute, neither of them gaining the upper-hand. Leon marveled at his son's technique. It was truly the best combination between him and his wife's fighting styles. The blue light in his son's eyes never wavered, never burnt out, and burned brighter than he'd ever seen.

Cobalt truly wanted to be a hero, to be Huntsman, to not live the boring and sedentary lifestyle he'd had before. Leon may not have known that was the reason, but he saw his son's true desire in that moment.

And he could not be any prouder.

However, if he didn't get his son to unlock his Semblance, that would be the only thing he gained from this.

After a few more clashes that caused shockwaves to shake the trees, Leon struck with an unexpected uppercut. Cobalt was able to stop it from hitting him with his sword but was not able to keep his feet on the ground. He soared through the air for a full second before slamming into a tree. His aura may have prevented any real damage, but it did not prevent the air from being blasted out of his lungs by the impact.

"Impressive, boy. Impressive." Leon praised again. "Keep this up and I might have to activate my Semblance as well!"

Usually, Leon's words would always be friendly and joking. But, either because of the adrenaline coursing through his veins or the state of mind he gets into when he battles, what he said in that moment sounded extremely _condescending_ to him. It made him feel like he wasn't good enough for his dad to activate his Semblance.

He would have been crushed instantly if Leon did, but it was the thought that counted.

With this in mind, he was starting to get angry.

Cobalt quickly got up and sprinted forward, sword held high, trying to cleave his father in two.

A quick motion of Leon's Warhammer made sure that didn't happen.

The clashing between the two only became more heated and desperate the more frustrated and angry Cobalt became. Leon found his blows came down harder. Cobalt's fighting style came to resemble his more, with wild slashes and brutal blows that could crush a normal man.

Leon was beginning to get a good idea what his son's Semblance was. However, he _needed_ to make sure.

With one last roar, Leon slammed his Warhammer down. Cobalt blocked it, but instead of what Leon would normally do, he kept the Warhammer firmly planted on him, slowly crushing Cobalt with his strength and weight.

Cobalt gritted his teeth, trying his best to keep the massive Warhammer from destroying him there. Sweat beaded and fell down his face, and his face scrunched into a grimace.

"Well, boy?" Leon goaded. "Is this all you got?"

 _All I got… All I got…?_

 _No. No I am not weak like I once was._

Leon would not usually goad someone into doing something, but this wasn't something he usually did. Usually, he'd turn his Warhammer into its alternate artillery form and blast an enemy from far away, only using his immense strength when he was bored or was necessary. Still, it got the intended effect.

Cobalt's eyes widened at the jab, but quickly regained their steel, and then some. It almost seemed like the angrier he got, the stronger he became. So strong, in fact, that he was starting to push Leon back, something that not many people could attest to doing without being a liar. Cobalt's greatsword and Leon's Warhammer, were in completely different positions now, with the Warhammer blocking and the greatsword attacking.

With on final roar of anger, Cobalt slashed down with all the force his 13 year-old body would allow him too.

His father was nearly thrown off his feet. He slid for several feet, trying his best not to fall over. The only reason he eve stopped was because of the tree that ended up behind him. Leon lowered his Warhammer, drank in his son's appearance. The battle had taken a toll on him, with exhaustion clear on his face and from the way he took deep breaths almost without pause. Despite that, he was still standing, his sword aimed at Leon, ready to go again if it had to be that way.

Despite this posture, however, he nearly fell over when Leon began _laughing_.

"Ahahahahahahahaha!" His father guffawed, shaking the nearby trees. "I see! I see, I see! So that's what it is, huh? Interesting! _Very_ interesting!"

Cobalt merely stared blankly. "…Huh?"

"I know what your Semblance is now! Really, it is so subtle most people wouldn't be able to tell what it is, but luckily for you, you have me as both a father and an instructor!" Leon laughed.

"…What?"

"Your Semblance, boy! Did I make you deaf? Oh wait… that wouldn't be good, are you seriously-"

"No! No! I mean… I mean what's my Semblance!?" Cobalt breathed.

"Oh, that! Yes, your Semblance is rather simple, and now that I look back on it, it's been active almost every time you've been in a fight with either us or a Grimm. See, son, your Semblance is kinda simple!"

Leon coughed, before assuming a pose he no doubt that made him look academical but actually made him look a little bit like an idiot.

"Your Semblance, is the ability to grow stronger the angrier you are." Leon explained clinically. "It's a useful ability to have, but you must be careful not to rely on it. Rage is a very good motivator, but, as they say, a flame that shines twice bright only lasts twice as long. Make sure to moderate your anger, and you could become stronger in an instant!"

Leon folded his arms, a toothy grin on his face. "Now, any questions?"

Cobalt's mind was beginning to look a lot like a static television at that moment.

It was cool that he'd unlocked his Semblance. Amazing, even. Too bad he was too close to unconscious to really enjoy it.

"…Yeah, I have one." He said, raising his hand.

"Yes, boy?"

"Can I pass out now?"

"Go ahead, son. You've earned the rest." Leon smiled.

Cobalt didn't remember much after that, only a fair bit of screaming from a furious lioness and the whimpers of apology from a cowering lion when they apparently got him.

Well, that, and the constant explosions in the background that always sent him back to _that day-_

* * *

 **Several months later.**

* * *

Cobalt stared at the mail in his inbox on his Scroll.

There, imprinted clear as day, was the title of one of the academies he had applied for.

 _Signal Academy_.

His blue eyes focused on the mail, even if the title itself gave nothing away as to the contents. His hands shook with anticipation at what might be on the other side of the link to the mail he'd gotten.

He swallowed his anxiousness and pressed his finger to the holographic screen of the Scroll.

The first word he saw nearly caused his eyes to bulge out of their sockets.

 _Accepted._

There was not a person in the house that did not know Cobalt had been granted the right to study at a real combat school that day.

He ran down the stairs and instantly tackled his father who, while not opposed to the idea of a good wrestling, wondered what had gotten into his son. His reaction, upon seeing the mail on his son's Scroll, was a lot like Cobalt.

"Ahahahahahahaha! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Luani! Luani baby! Look! Look here! See!? SEE!? What did I tell you!" Leon laughed nearly uncontrollably, while Luani read the mail with interest.

"I…" Luani stuttered. "I can't believe it…! Leon…!" She was almost breathless.

Leon hugged her and, because of their almost comical height difference, brought her almost a full foot off the ground and twirled her around, laughing all the while. After a few seconds of that, Leon put her down, and apparently thought it was Cobalt's turn to be thrown around like a ragdoll.

This is what he's always wanted, ever since he was 'born'. To be a hero, and now he had a true, _real_ shot at it.

The loving family life didn't make him happy at all though. Of course not, why would it? It's not like he didn't have a lot of this back when he was in the world that was destroyed in a _rain of nuclear hellfire that nearly destroyed everything he was-_

Cobalt shook his head, dispelling those thoughts. It had become easier with time, but those thoughts and memories always surfaced, whether he wanted them to or not.

"So, son! You not only got into a good Academy, but the one me and your mother both went to… Geez, how many years was it, baby?"

Luani giggled. "About 15 years, you big oaf."

"Oh crap, really? Feels like just yesterday I was wooing you with my excellently written sonatas-"

"Finishing that sentence would be extremely hazardous to your health, Leon!" Luani menaced.

"Ahaha! There's the beautiful lioness I fell in love with!"

Cobalt rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, a habit he picked up from his dad.

 _Why does it feel like I'm intruding on this? Feel like I should be somewhere else right now…_

"Now!" Leon said finally addressing his son. "Son, there are no words in the dictionary that could express how _proud_ I am of you. By this time next year, you'll be on Patch, attending Signal Academy, and then after that… Oh, I feel like I'm about to cry…"

"That's my job, idiot!" Luani said dryly.

"Ha! But, there's one thing I want you to think about before you go to Signal, okay?"

"Is it to pack extra underwear? I feel like I'll need it if the people there'll be anything like you, dad." Cobalt snarked.

"Hehe! Maybe, maybe! But seriously, this is about your weapon."

Cobalt raised a brow. "What about it?"

"It's a good weapon," Leon began. "Exemplary, sturdy. 80 years ago you would have gone far with it, however, most weapons these days are more… what's the word?"

"Complex and versatile?" Luani covered.

"Yeah, that! Like for example, my Warhammer, Sfyri, and Luani has those… those evil things she seems to think are knives-" Luani nudged Leon in the side, who got the hint. "-but both of them can turn into something else, you know?"

Cobalt knew what his dad meant. Most weapons wielded by Huntsmen and Huntresses could alternate forms between 2 or sometimes 3 forms, while the greatsword he wielded was simply that: a big and sturdy sword. Nothing really special about it.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. It was his first step into this world of Huntsmen and Huntresses and giving it up for something else would make it feel like he was giving up a part of himself.

"I'm not saying you have to make something now! Heck, you could make one while you're there, or you could completely ignore what we've said here and keep your sword, you _are_ pretty good with it, after all!" Leon laughed. "Just think about it okay? While you do that, though, me and your mother are going to throw a massive party. We'll invite all our old friends from Beacon! Whatcha think Tai and Qrow are doing these days? Maybe we could invite Port too! Ahh, his stories are the best you know!"

Cobalt, lost in thought, retreated to his room. For some reason, the talk about his weapon, which was currently resting in the corner of the room, the light from the winding causing it to shine.

He really, really liked that sword. It had been with him the entire time he was on these 4 years of training, waiting to be accepted by a combat academy. If the mail was to be believed, he'd even gotten a scholarship!

And yet…

And then he was struck with inspiration, and from the most unlikely of places.

He didn't have to discard his old sword, he could just remake it, making the previous angst completely pointless. Then again, he was 14; it was to be expected. However, beyond that, in the fuzzy cloud of memory that was his past before he arrived here, on Remnant, a new eapon of war emerged. It would have to be adjusted a bit, but he could see it as clear as day.

Cobalt brought up a piece of paper and began drawing the concept for his weapon.

A weapon of electric Dust and rails.

* * *

 **2 years later.**

* * *

"Asher, I swear if you-"

"I didn't do anything, honest!"

On his way to Signal, Cobalt moaned and facepalmed. "I know I said I needed more powdered electric Dust, but to steal from a Schnee Kiosk is just… _ugh!_ We're supposed to be paragons of humanity, not thieves!"

"Why not both?" Asher gave a sheepish smile.

"And now you're not even denying it. Why are we friends again? In fact, how did you even get into this school?" Cobalt glared.

"Because the entrance exams are really lax? And because of-" He took out two swords, combined them at the pommel, and a self-strung chord running from each tip, and voila, he had a bow. A bow with no arrows, but a bow. "-this?"

"It is very cool, but there's a reason we haven't used bows for centuries." Cobalt said dryly.

"And why's that?"

"Because they knew you'd use them one day and didn't want to be embarrassed by the thought anymore." Cobalt smirked.

" _Ouch._ " Asher staggered back, as if he was punched. "Man, you really got me good with that one. You had to reach pretty far for it, didn't you though?"

"Yeah, I-"

" _Heeeeeey!_ "

Cobalt's face instantly brightened upon hearing that voice.

 _My rival…!_

Turning around he caught the high five waiting for him as he took in the appearance of the person just behind him.

Bright blonde hair and violet eyes quickly set her apart from most people at the school, as well as the outfit she wore.

"Xiao Long!" Cobalt laughed. "Kick any good asses lately?"

She flashed him a bright smile. "That's only on Wednesdays, lionboy! 'Sides, not very many places around here where you can get a good fight anyway. Unless it's you, apparently!"

"Yang, today _is_ Wednesday." Asher corrected.

"Oh, well, how about we go spar before the day's over then? Kinda bored, not gonna lie."

I'd love to, buuuut…" Cobalt hefted the greatsword on his back over his shoulder. "I got to test something real quick. Heading to the firing range to see just what it's capable of."

"Awww, you're breaking my heart here, Cobalt! Just wanna have a friendly spar with my best buddy and he goes and steps on my hopes like that? You're cruel, you know that right?" Yang sighed melodramatically. "Although, I guess seeing you play with your new toy would be entertaining too."

Cobalt made it known how melodramatic Yang was being.

Yang's response was a half-hearted punch to the face.

Asher stood there and laughed.

This summed up the three's relationship in a nutshell. Cobalt had met Yang not long after he entered Signal Academy, and after a training match in which neither gave up, they both fell with their auras depleted. They were fast friends after that, quickly seeing the other as a rival worth bettering.

Cobalt saw in Yang someone like himself, if only because of their love to fight.

Yang saw in Cobalt a way to blow off steam and get a good fight.

And Asher was there to laugh at them from the sidelines.

Truly the best of friends they were.

The three musketeers made their way to the firing range. Really, it was a glorified sand pit with railings that had targets on one side and booths on the other.

Cobalt held his old greatsword like a rifle, his thumb hovering over a button on the crossguard. His eyes were filled with malice and bloodlust, and the vicious smile he gave sent shivers up Asher's spine. Yang, on the other hand, was really anticipating what Cobalt had been working on for the past year and a half.

She absentmindedly thought that he and her sister would make good friends, if this is how he acted around weapons.

"You guys ready to see some _fireworks!?_ " Cobalt snickered maliciously. "Well, get ready! Show's about to start!"

Cobalt pressed the button.

And the blade of his greatsword split in two. Crackles of yellow electricity surged from the weapon as the inside was revealed. Two rails ran along the inside of the now two-bladed weapon, along with a bridge to complete the circuit the powdered electric dust was making inside the weapon.

It took months to get it to activate at the touch of a button, but the results showed for themselves.

With a titter, Cobalt pressed the button again, this time keeping his thumb on it, letting the weapon charge.

1 second.

2 seconds.

3 seconds.

Nearly 4 seconds later, the railgun fired, sending a projectile at supersonic speeds into one of the unfortunate practice dummies, which was annihilated within an instant, leaving nothing behind but a crater and a few broken pieces of practice dummy that were lucky enough to survive the kinetic force of a railgun projectile.

Cobalt collapsed the weapon, turning it into a regular greatsword.

And immediately started jumping around like a kid who'd just been allowed to buy whatever he wanted from a candy store.

"Hahahahahaha! I did it! I did it, I did it! HAHA! Yang, Asher, did you see that!?"

Asher looked at his weapons sullenly, before steeling himself. He liked his weapons just the way they were. So what if Cobalt had to be flashy? He was just as effective! A lot more quiet as well.

He had his own advantages and left it at that.

Yang, meanwhile, had come up with something that would _really_ rile Cobalt up.

She smirked. "Yeah, I could see why you _Co-bolted_ here if that's what you wanted to show us!"

She snickered at her own joke.

Cobalt found it infinitely less amusing.

Cobalt's face instantly dropped, forming a stern frown as the tip of his sword scratched against the ground. "That wasn't even funny."

"Are you kidding? That was very _punny!_ "

"Okay, those are words of _war_ Yang. Usual sparring area. _Now_." Cobalt growled forcefully.

Yang laughed and punched the palm of her hand. Ember Celica whirring as she did so. "Thought you'd never ask!"

* * *

 **1 year later.**

* * *

 _Congratulations, Cobalt Nemea! You have been one of the few chosen to attend the prestigious Beacon Academy! At the end of the year, you will be picked up via airship to begin the last leg of your journey to becoming a Huntsman and protecting humanity from Grimm and vagabonds alike! Enclosed within this letter is all you will need on the day you officially become a part of-_

Cobalt breathed in and out. In and out.

It did nothing to hide the excitement that was coursing through him.

It was almost over.

4 more years of combat schooling, and he would officially be recognized as a Hunstman, as a _hero_. The only thing he ever really wanted outside of family. Just a few short years, and his dream would come true.

Cobalt laughed before picking up his greatsword and studying it. It looked just as it had when he first chose it almost 7 years ago. Only one thing was added beyond the mechanisms on the inside.

In small, scratchy writing, on the pommel.

 _Requiem_.

It may have been weird, but that's what he named the sword. Requiem. It had a nice ring to it, he thought. Gave a hint at what the greatsword represented to him.

He stood up and put the edge of the greatsword on the ground, so that both his hands were on the underside of the guard. The position he was in felt suitably heroic to him.

He laughed again, feeling elated. He might as well tell his friends the good news, over the scroll of course; he didn't feel like leaving his room right now.

Cobalt didn't know why but he just didn't. Something was nagging at him in the back of his mind. Despite this, he still felt like he was filled with pent-up energy, so he began pacing.

He did that for what felt like minutes, just pacing back and forth in front of the decorative fireplace in the room. On the fireplace, sat a single coin made of some sort of brass.

The same coin that his parents told him was in the basket with him that night he was left to die in the woods. He remembered that part very clearly. He had no proof that he was being left there to die, but why else would you leave a child in the middle of a forest with Grimm about? Seem self-explanatory to him, at least.

He walked up to the coin, scrutinizing it. It was incredibly decorative for a coin, with intricate designs of leaves and flows. On one side, was a caravan of some sort. On the other, was a single word.

 _Taxidiotis_.

The word had no meaning to him. He didn't know why he had it on him in the basket all those years ago. The only reason Cobalt kept it was because it was the only reminder of what had happened. So he wouldn't forget.

 _Forget._

 _ **Forget.**_

* * *

 _The blast caught him on his right, searing the skin from his face and blinding him in one eye-_

* * *

Cobalt took a step back, trying to beat down the memories that threatened to consume him whole. "Shut up. Shut up! You're not real, you didn't happen-!"

* * *

" _Jackson!" He screamed into the blurry and hazy world around him, desperately searching for the brother he had no doubt already lost. "Jaaaaackson! Come here! Where are you!? Get over here-!"_

* * *

He stumbled back, nearly falling over. He grabbed his head to try to keep his brain in his skull. Sometimes things like this would happen. Sometimes he would remember almost completely what had happened-

What _didn't_ happen, he reminded himself. What he was remembering had no basis in fact. From one world to the next… such a thing was impossible.

It should have been impossible-

* * *

 _His death was not instantaneous. He lived for days. The radiation and burns slowly destroying him until he was a husk. Only for one of the few bands of humans remaining to put him out of his misery mercifully with a bullet to the head._

 _This never happened. He died from exposure, radiation, and third-degree burns. All of which made his death the most agonizing he could ever imagine in a million years-_

* * *

He was on his knees, his hands on his skull, trying to keep the pain from exploding any further. Trying to keep the memories down. They weren't real, he kept telling himself. How could they be real?

He did not know that that was an inherent contradiction, that his life previously is the entire reason that he was on the path he was in this life now. He refused to acknowledge this contradiction. To do so was insanity.

Not like he was much better now, was he?

* * *

 _He ran into living shadows; almost like him. They stained the ground the closer he got to the cause of the whole mess. Hot wind blew in his face, blowing away the last remnants of his hair from his burned skull as his bony legs soldiered onward._

 _At this point, it was hard to even remember his name-_

* * *

His name…

His name was…

His name was Cobalt Nemea. Nothing more, nothing less.

Those memories were fake. They were not real in any way. All that remained, was him.

He stayed in that position for almost an hour, collecting his thoughts like broken ceramic on a kitchen floor. Cobalt hadn't realized it, but tears streamed down his face. Things like this happened sometimes, where he would be forced to relive the end of a life that never happened. Sometimes they would haunt his dreams. They always caused pain. Immense pain.

That was one of the reasons he stopped thinking about before.

It hurt when he remembered himself.

* * *

 **End of prologue.**

* * *

 _ **I feel like I'm gonna struggle writing canon characters. Call it a hunch.**_

 _ **The next few chapters after this will be 'trailers', so look forward to that, I guess?**_

 _ **Aside from that, though, a small rant, if you'll indulge me.**_

 _ **Why is it that every OC-insert, or self-insert, or any other fucking insert, has the OC in question come across as a completely shallow and unlikable jackass? I mean, this is just coming from me so I guess I have no real right to complain, but Jesus fucking Christ! They always have this condescending and OVERLY sarcastic monologue in their mind too, and basically see the characters as nothing but toys to play around and have sex with at their leisure, and you better fucking believe they'll be having sex, and tons of it. All so the author can satisfy their creepy fantasies of sleeping with more than 5 women at once.**_

 _ **It's depressing, really. I see this shit everywhere and it reminds me of when I first started out, which is probably why I hate it.**_

 _ **I don't really know where I was going with this, but rant done. Hopefully I'll be able to avoid those stupid fucking tropes. They annoy the hell out of me and just SCREAM immaturity.**_

 _ **With that out of the way, I hope you have a Good Night.**_


End file.
